"You don't know what you're asking. You’re not old enough to truly understand the realities of our world."
"I know exactly what I'm asking. I'm asking you to choose me."
"Choosing you means losing everything else."
"And choosing everything else means losing me. Which one can you live with?"
I stare at her, this brave, impossible woman who's asking me to risk everything for something that might not even be possible.
"I don't know," I admit.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have right now."
She nods slowly, and I can see disappointment flicker across her face before she hides it.
"Okay. I understand."
"Do you?"
"You have responsibilities. A life. I get it."
"That's not—"
"It's fine, Damon. Really."
But I can see it's not fine. I can see that my hesitation hurt her.
"It's not about not wanting you," I say. “It's about not knowing how to have you without destroying both our lives."
"Maybe some things are worth destroying your life for."
We stare at each other across the small space between us, both of us recognizing that we've hit an impasse. She wants me to choose her over everything else. I want to find a way to choose her without losing everything else.
Maybe we're both asking for the impossible.
"We should get some sleep," I say finally. "Long day tomorrow."
"Yeah. We should."
But neither of us moves. We sit there on the old couch, the fire crackling in the grate, both of us thinking about choices and consequences and the space between wanting something and being able to have it.
"Damon?"
"Yeah?"
"When you figure out what you want to do, let me know."
"And if I can't figure it out?"
"Then I'll figure it out for both of us."
Her threat is unmistakable. Viviana Bonacci is done waiting for other people to make decisions about her life.
Which should probably terrify me.
Instead, it makes me want her more.
